


Everything Is Not What It Seems

by evansscruff (chuckle123)



Category: American Actor RPF, Chris Evans- Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Adoption, Age Difference, Awkwardness, Cultural Appreciation, Cultural Appropriation, Cultural Differences, Cultural References, Desi Character, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Frenemies, Height Differences, Indian Character, Interracial Relationship, Jealousy, Light Angst, Mild Smut, Misunderstandings, Non-Linear Narrative, Orphanage, Orphans, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuckle123/pseuds/evansscruff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samaira Sen, a young college student, meets Chris Evans on a flight to India where sparks fly despite conflicting perspectives and personalities. Inspired by the “Getting Inside Chris Evans’ Head” interview where he mentioned he had taken a trip to the holy city of Rishikesh, India in the past, and a collaboration fic with @ponderingsofapuzzledmind on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey guys! This isn't an update for Something New, which I should hopefully have up soon, unfortunately. But I've collabed with @ponderingsofapuzzledmind on Tumblr to write this fic. The situation depicted is not a representation of our views on any particular race, ethnicity or class- it’s a discussion about the lines between cultural appropriation and cultural appreciation- and is not meant to offend anyone.

## Spring of 2012

“-and that’s the conclusion of today’s lecture on reincarnation in Hinduism and Buddhism. I’ll see you all next week!”  Samaira concluded her lecture; she was dead tired, and more than ready to zone out in front of the TV with a glass of red wine.  

After answering some last-minute questions about the final paper, Samaira gathered up her things and walked quickly through the massive double doors, pausing only to mutter thanks to the handsome man who was holding them open.  

“Excuse me,” she said, turning back suddenly with a jolt of recognition.   

 The man looked up from his phone, not expecting to hear the the familiar soft voice nor see the unforgettable brown eyes that looked back at him, mirroring his surprise.

“Chris?” her voice filled with wonder, making his heart leap. “It’s been a while.”

Chris definitely agreed – it had been a long time, too long.  Suddenly, he was determined not to let her slip away again.  

“Samaira,” he blurted, resisting the urge to envelop her in his arms, “what are you doing here?”  He could’ve kicked himself for losing his cool in front of a beautiful woman.  

“I’m a professor,” she blushed embarrassedly and gestured to the students still emptying out of the lecture hall, “that was my class – South Asian religions.”

“Professor, huh?” He couldn’t ignore the fact that that meant she would be staying closer to Boston, and, more importantly, closer to him.  “So I’ll be calling you  Dr. Samaira Sen from now on,” he teased, breaking into a grin, “but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Samaira blushed; that last comment had directed her thoughts straight into the gutter – Chris was in much the same predicament, and the white blouse that clung to her curves wasn’t helping matters. There was an awkward silence as Chris lost himself in her figure.  

Samaira’s voice brought him out of his daze; she was asking if he wanted to grab dinner later.

“Love to.  I’ll pick you up at 8:00.”

* * *

Chris pulled up in front of Samaira’s apartment and, taking a deep breath as he turned off the engine, headed toward the building.  

“Of course the elevator is out of order,” he muttered, pushing his way into the stairwell.  

Seconds later, he found himself in front of Samaira’s door.  He took a few deep breaths to calm his heart, which was pounding from nerves … or from literally running up four flights of stairs in his excitement.  

Finally, Chris knocked on the door – once, twice, three times.  He  stuffed his hands in his pockets, only looking  up when he heard the door open.

Samaira tripped through the door, still trying to clasp her heels. Chris’s chest tightened when he saw her. She was the image of sexiness in a tight red dress; her tantalizing bare neck gave him the urge to mark up her collarbone, while glittering gold jewelry set off her warm complexion and made her eyes sparkle.  

“Hey,” she said breathlessly, “sorry if I look a mess – I had to go over some last-minute lesson plans.”

She wasn’t about to let him know that she had been eagerly anticipating this meeting since they had spoken earlier that day, or that she had painstakingly planned out every detail of her outfit. She had been determined to keep her composure but that literally went out the door as she opened it and saw Chris standing on the other side.

“You look amazing,” he said, offering his arm, “Shall we?”

In the car, Samaira felt fidgety, clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap while she thought of something to say.  

“So,” she said finally, “you’re pretty famous now.”

“So you’ve heard,” Chris teased.

“Well, your face is everywhere. I can’t go anywhere without being bombarded with all that comic book movie stuff.”

“You know you like it.”

“You think so?”

Chris didn’t have time to answer, as they pulled up to the restaurant.  As soon as they parked, Chris practically sprinted to the passenger side, arriving in time to help Samaira out of the car.  Flustered, she reached out to grab his offered hand, only to be shocked by the jolt of electricity she felt as his fingers lightly brushed her own.

She drew back slightly, but quickly recovered and confidently pushed herself out of the car.  Her  hesitation, however, didn’t go unnoticed by Chris, who smirked to himself as he watched the color rise in her cheeks.

Before long, they were seated inside, and had ordered their food.  

“So what’s new for you, besides the professor thing?”

“Nothing much,” Samaira started to speak, going on about “nothing” just to have something to say.

Chris zoned out, taking  the time to study and soak in Samaira. Her hair cascaded down over her shoulder, dark mahogany contrasting against copper skin. His gaze travelled down her slender nose, resting on the small nose pin, winking as the light hit it. Next were her lips; he tried very hard not to linger on the thought of them. Instead, he diverted his attention back to her voice .

“… and _Baba_ is happy that the roof is now properly fixed before the monsoon season starts. ”

Chris smiled as Samaira forgot herself and threw in the affectionate Hindi term; he had met “ _Baba_ ” on his trip four years ago, and he cherished the memory – he cherished every moment spent with her.

“You haven’t changed one bit, Samaira,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Not since that flight where we first met.”

“Nonsense!  I’ve aged ten years since the last time I saw you –  with all the stress from studying and working.”

* * *

## Summer of 2008

Having safely (for once) passed through security, Samaira gathered her things and made her way towards the gate listed on her boarding pass.  

She pulled out a book to read and settled in for a long wait. he was just about to getting into the meat of the story when her thoughts were interrupted by the dull, droning voice over the intercom.

“Indian Air Flight 107CE to Delhi is now boarding at Gate 5A.”

 _Finally._ She shoved the book back into her carry on and headed quickly towards the gate, hoping to avoid the queue.

Boarding went off without a hitch and, once she got settled into her seat, she pulled out her headphones and iPod – music always helped combat her crippling airsickness.

_I hate flying. I hate flying. I hate flying._

She kept her fingers crossed that  the seat next to her would remain empty. She groaned inwardly when a tall, lean man deposited his tattered rucksack onto the adjoining seat. She politely averted her eyes as he reached up to put away his cabin bag, ignoring the small strip of skin exposed just above his waistband.

As he took of his baseball cap and settled into the seat next to her, he flashed her a quick greeting smile.  She managed a polite, tight-lipped smile of her own.

“Ready for a long flight?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

She put her headphones back in and closed her eyes, hoping he understood the universal “please don’t talk to me” sign, but the silence was too good to last for the entire journey

“You know, we’ve literally been sitting inches apart for almost nineteen hours,” he said, leaning casually towards her, “and I don’t even know your name.”

 _Smooth._ Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she extended her hand and introduced herself. “Samaira. Samaira Sen.”

“Chris. Chris Evans,” he responded, mimicking her James Bond introduction with a playful smirk. She didn’t respond. “So are you headed back to the motherland?”

She only raised an eyebrow, as if to say “ _Are you serious_?”

Chris was already mentally kicking himself. _Way to put your foot in your mouth, Evans._  In his defense, he thought, it was pretty hard to form a coherent sentence, let alone hold an intelligent conversation, with a gorgeous goddess of a woman sitting only inches away from him.  

He decided to give it one more go.  “Is that _Siddhartha_ you’re reading?”

“You know _Siddhartha_?” She said incredulously..

“I read it in high school.” He chuckled as he saw her brown eyes widen in surprise.

“I’m reading it for class. College.”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” His voice got louder as his enthusiasm grew. “Siddhartha’s goal seemed very simple, but his views, so very complex! Renouncing material pleasures to start with, and then working to  build a new life. So inspiring! In the end, it all comes down to his connection with nature. ”

Samaira couldn’t stop the smile that creeping  onto her face as she listened to what he had to say on the subject.  The smile, however, disappeared just as quickly as it had come.  

“Maybe I’ll find some inner peace on this trip, hey?” He chuckled. Chris hoped that maybe he would be able to clear through the fog of his anxiety to see what his next course of action should be, considering it could change his life. For better or for worse, he had no clue.

Samaira struggled to keep her cool as she considered how to reply. In slow, measured speech she began:

“Siddhartha struggled at every step he took. He struggled so much that he wandered back to Vasudeva just because he just wanted to feel some peace, some wholeness to his existence. It takes many lives for somebody to achieve that kind of _moksha_ , salvation.”

Samaira had intended to stop right there, put her headphones in, and ignore the idiot for the rest of the flight. But Chris had hit a nerve. Before she even had time to think, she was launching into an angry lecture.

“This isn’t ‘ _Eat, Pray, Love_ ’ –  attend a wedding, light a diya by the Ganga, and hey ho inner peace, Instagram perfect selfies, and mojitos at the poolside of a  five star resort. You know what’s on the other side of that white-washed wall?  Slums, poverty, hunger, disease – people who still cling to the belief that their deeds will lead them to _moksha_. The ‘inner peace’ you’re talking about only exists on your flat screen TV; so I’d appreciate it, Mr. Evans, if you’d check your facts before flinging your ignorance around.”

Chris could’ve sworn he heard his jaw hit the floor. _You’ve done it now, Evans._ Just as he opened his mouth to start damage control, the flight attendant announced the plane’s descent into Indira Gandhi International Airport. Samaira promptly stuck her headphones back in. Conversation over.  

As soon as they landed, Samaira tried to get as far away from her unfortunate seatmate as possible. But his pride was wounded, and he wasn’t about to let a gorgeous woman slip away with a false impression. He cornered her near the baggage conveyor belts.

“Samaira, just hear me out. You can’t just say your piece and leave because of a misunderstanding.”

With a raised eyebrow, Samaira retorted “Oh, _I’m_ misunderstanding, am I? That’s rich coming from the white guy trying to teach me about _my_ culture.”

“Easy,” he held up his hands in a gesture of peace, “ “No need to rant. Geez, why don’t you chill?  Do some yoga or something.” Chris immediately regretted his last comment.

“ _Of course_ I’d know all about yoga. Should I calm my chakras as well?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she watched the blood drain from his face. “You know what, Evans? Just leave it. This is the end of whatever journey we’ve had and it’s time for you to go your way and for me to go mine.”

With that, Samaira turned around and walked away, resolutely ignoring the prickling heat on the back of her neck indicating that Chris’s eyes were still on her. She had the sinking feeling that her parting words were not as final as she had hoped.  

After the longest bus journey and the dustiest auto-rickshaw ride, she was finally back home and craving nothing but her _Baba_ ’s warm hugs and her siblings’ laughter.

She stopped to look up at the sign that read Shashthi’s Orphanage and a familiar warmth spread through her body, driving away the exhaustion

_This is home._

She dropped her bags near the front door, and sat down to untie her sneakers.

“Samaira _Didi_!” A small boy ran up to her and latched onto her  leg, refusing to be shaken off.

“Hey, Avi!” She swooped down to pick him up and plopped him on her lap. “How’s school going?”

“I hate history” he moaned sadly, “it’s so boring.”

“Well, we’ll make it super interesting!”

Just then, Neel hugged Samaira from behind, yelling,  “ _Didi_ , you’re back! _Baba_ sent me to find you!”

Samaira rushed to her _Baba’_ s study, knowing that he would be just as excited to see her. She knocked on the faded wood and opened the door as an older man called out in a low voice, “Samaira, _beta_ , is that you?”

“ _Baba_!”  She rushed over to hug him, unable to believe that she was finally back. She burrowed her head into his shirt – the smell of mint and sandalwood immediately made her feel at peace.

Samaira felt laughter rumble through his chest as he said, “ _Beta_ , I missed you too. But if you keep burying your nose in my shirt then I won’t be able to see your pretty face.”

Samaira lifted her head up at his words. She could see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes, but frowned at the lines that had begun to show his age.

“ _Baba_ , you really should be taking better care of yourself,” she lectured.

“You should be worrying about yourself,” he retorted, “look at how thin you’ve gotten! You’ve completely dried up. Do they not feed you properly at that university of yours?”  

“Stop teasing, _Baba!_ ”

“After you’ve washed up,” he continued, “I need you to make sure the girls have set up the guest rooms properly.”

“Guest rooms? But why, _Baba_?”

“Beta, a group of people are arriving to talk to me about the history of Rishikesh and its religious roots. They are staying with us for the duration of their trip.”

“ _Baba_ , how could you do this?” Samaira stood up in anger and disbelief. “You hate hypocrites  who think they can come to Rishikesh on a holiday and indulge  their misconceptions! You _can’t_ sell out your beliefs and teachings like this!”

He tried to console her, but Samaira wouldn’t hear it.

“I could’ve organized a dance concert, or a fundraiser, or-”

“-and I will not let you waste your talent or time like that!. These people bring good money with them, Samaira. At the end of the day, they’re just trying to learn more about the history of a wonderful land.”

“That is _not_ the way the world should work!”

“But  that’s the way it is, _beta_ ,” he sighed. “Now, I trust that you will treat our guests with respect.”

The old man wasn’t able to extract Samaira’s promise before they were interrupted by the pulling up to the house.

“Go welcome our guests, Samaira,” he said with a warning in his tone.

She stormed out of the room, only vaguely hearing _Baba_ ’s order to wear the new saree laid out on her bed.

She quickly washed up and changed. Practicing a smile in the mirror, she struggled to master an expression that didn’t look like complete disdain.

She walked to the front door, bracing herself for an onslaught of people bound to ask her for an Instagram photo op beside the sculpted deities on the front porch.

She threw open the door. And almost swore at what she saw.

Or rather _who_ she saw.

Chris Evans thanked every heavenly force he could think of for the luck that had landed him on this porch at this moment. Dropping his duffelbag on the floor, he took a step closer to the woman standing frozen in the doorway.

“Guess you were wrong about the journey ending,” he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear,  “weren’t you Samaira?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey peeps! I’ve been MIA intermittently for some time on AO3- school starting back up has cut off all inspo and writing time for me! I completely forgot that me and the lovely @ponderingsofapuzzledmind on Tumblr had written this chapter near the beginning of Sept so I decided to post it since I sat on it for a couple of weeks. 
> 
> Special thanks to @jediavengers on Tumblr and anyone else I showed it to for ideas/betaing- ya’ll are the best!
> 
> Just as a recap, Samaira Sen, a young college student, meets Chris Evans on a flight to India where sparks fly despite conflicting perspectives and personalities. She later finds out Chris is visiting the same ashram/orphanage ( a place of religious retreat or community life) where she’s lived for all her life. So things are moving from there.

## Summer 2008

“What the hell are you doing here?” Samaira hissed at the last person she wanted to see.

“Didn’t expect to see me here, now did you?” Chris had a stupid, a smug grin on his face as he gazed at her looking like a goddess in a saree, here to welcome him at her doorstep. “I didn’t know you lived in Rishikesh.”

“Well, I wasn’t aware you were visiting Rishikesh -”

“You must be Chris!” Baba’s voice boomed from behind her, where she stood completely aghast. “We’d emailed earlier. I’m Anurag Sen and welcome to the Shashti Ashram!”

“Wait, you’re in charge of the Buddhism class from L.A?!” As an aspiring professor, she was fucking offended by the idea of this… frat boy teaching people about one of the world’s oldest religions.

No, definitely not.” Chris let out a laugh. “Our instructor in LA couldn’t make it because of some extenuating circumstances, so I took charge since I had been involved in organizing this retreat from the beginning and decided to come slightly early. The rest of the class should be here later tonight.”

“Well, I’m glad you all could come.”

Samaira forced herself not to scoff in incredulity. She wasn’t about to voice that thought standing next to Baba.

“Samaira,” Baba asked, “it’s getting dark outside, go grab the _aarti ki thali_ from the table.”

Stomaching her ever-increasing irritation, she smiled slightly and went to get the thali, making sure her back was turned before allowing her phony smile to drop. Trust Baba to have a Bollywood-style welcome for these people.

As she walked back with the thaali in hand, she gave Baba a disapproving look, making him frown. Swallowing her pride for her father, she welcomed Chris with a heavy heart.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Baba requested as he walked out onto the lawn. “I must go lock up the front gates for the night.”

Samaira groan inwardly, not wanting to deal with that asshole alone. She grudgingly applied the _tikka_ and rice grains to Chris’ forehead, and he retaliated with a delighted smirk.

“Come in,” she muttered, wanting to slap that stupid grin off his face. “let me show you to the room you’ll be staying in.”

They walked in silence, the sound of the suitcase echoing through the long, empty hallway. Samaira felt his eyes boring into her back and she fidgeted with her end of her silk printed saree.

She unlocked the room and pushed the door open. “This is your room,” she informed him stepping in. “The rest of your group will have the adjacent rooms when they arrive. The bathrooms are just down the hall, and the dining room is upstairs across from my own. Breakfast is served at 7 AM sharp, so if you’re late then don’t bother showing up at all.”

She turned to leave when Chris grabbed her wrist and she ungracefully stumbled on him. His arms instinctively wound around her waist to catch her. “Thanks for everything, Samaira.”

She untangled herself from him, shocked at his audacity. “You’re welcome.” she spat, walking towards the door. She paused at the threshold and looked over her shoulder. “Listen. If you need anything at all…”

“Yes?”

“Then there’s no need to disturb me for it.”

Saying this, she marched down the hallway, leaving Chris awestruck in her wake.

* * *

## 2012

Chris jerked back into reality when Samaira tapped his arm to get his order.

“I’ll have a glass of the house red wine, please.” Samaira gave a small smile to the waitress. “You know what, we’ll just take the bottle.”

After the waitress left, she turned to Chris who still seemed miles away. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just remembering how you oh so warmly welcomed me at the ashram,” he responded with a coy smile. “Sam.”

Samaira grimaced. “Your memory must be getting weaker if you don’t remember my absolute disdain for that nickname.”

* * *

## Summer 2008

The next morning, Samaira groggily opened her eyes while she lounged in her bed, cursing these “students” who had taken over her home.

She didn’t want to have to deal with Baba nagging her to attend to their needs, and now she had to cook and clean for the children and then her duties towards said students began. She didn’t mind the first job as much as the second.

She quickly washed up, put on a simple kurta top and leggings and ran down to the kitchen to get breakfast ready.

She quickly started peeling the potatoes and and put them to boil, before prepping the dough for the _parathas_. After making the filling and stuffing them, she quickly started cooking them, deftly working two pans at a time. Soon enough, she had a stack of piping hot potato pancakes ready to go.

Just then, she heard multiple footsteps thud down the stairs, followed by a loud chorus of ‘Didiiiii’.  She smiled widely and made sure the table was set and ready for the kids’ breakfast, helping them break up the _parathas_ into bite-size pieces and feeding them.

She then went back into the kitchen to get chai for Baba and his “guests,” who’d eat in a separate room. She couldn’t keep the snark out of her thoughts while she brought out the fancy tea tray to the prayer room where Baba would lecture his “students”.

“- so at this moment, the Supreme Lord Krishna started teaching Arjuna the _Bhagavad Gita_. This literally translates to ‘the Song of God’- ”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, can I come in, Baba?” Sameera asked, knocking on the door.

“Teaching the _Mahabharata_ , are we?” She felt all eyes on her and blushed. “I brought _chai_ and snacks for you all.”

She plastered a smile on her face as she handed each one of them a small tea cup until she got to Chris. She almost tipped the cup in his lap, frowning, while his dumb face bore his trademark smirk.

“Baba, here you go,” she said, passing him his tea. “It’s without sugar. Don’t complain! The doctor said you’re borderline diabetic, so this is damage control.”

While Baba chuckled at her incessant worrying, she turned to the students. “Breakfast will be ready in a short while so I’ll come back with some more food.”

She went back to the kitchen to quickly finish making her second batch of _parathas_ when Chris walked into the room.

“What do you want?” she hissed, rolling her eyes as she kneaded some more dough.

“Just getting a glass of water,” he answered. “Don’t worry, I can get it myself. It’s so hot in here.” After pouring himself some water from the fridge, he stood in front of the kitchen island next to her.

“Now that you’ve had your water, is there anything else you need?” She began rolling out the _parathas_ and putting them on the pan.

“Nothing. Just waiting for some more delicious food, Sam.”

“Samaira.” She gritted out, flipping the _paratha_. “The name is Samaira Sen.”

“I dunno, Sam,” he said, tapping a finger against his luscious lips. She hated him but she had to admit that he was quite good looking. “I think I prefer things in life to be short and sweet. Like your name, or perhaps…” he trailed off, looking Sam up and down as he grinned wolfishly.

Her mouth dropped open, but she managed to gather her bearings. She huffed and finished making her last _paratha_. “Suit yourself.”

She put the plates and the stack of parathas on the tray with small bowls of chutney and raita yoghurt and went back to Baba’s room to serve breakfast.  

After serving everyone and cleaning up, she went about the rest of her house work. She saw Chris walk past her while she was scrubbing down the dining table. Unable to resist, she called out to him. “How’d you like breakfast?”

He smiled and walked up to her. “It was delicious, but a bit too spicy for my taste.”

“Well, that’s Indian food for you, Mr Evans,” she retorted. “Always got a little bit of spice that lingers long after.”

“It’s Chris.” He walked up closer to whisper softly in my ear. “And I don’t think it’s just the food that’s got lingering spice to it.”

She turned beet red as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. They heard footsteps walking towards them and jumped apart. Baba narrowed his eyes at the sight of a flustered Samaira refusing to meet his gaze, but decided not to press her on the issue.

“Did I interrupt an important discussion?”

“Not at all, Baba.” She stammered, smoothing her hair. “Anything you need?”

“I came to find you Samaira,” he informed quickly with a smile. “Considering you have lived in Rishikesh all your life, you’d be the best person to show the class around the _ghats_ and _mandirs._ ”

Samaira willed her jaw not to drop open in indignation. “Why me, Baba? You know this town so much better than I do, plus they’ve come here to learn from you.”

Chris chimed in, seizing the moment. “Samaira, you can’t expect Baba to walk all over the town and climb up all the temples.” He continued with a confident smirk. “We came to listen to him but not at the expense of his health. After him, you’d be the best person to show us around.”

“Exactly beta. I don’t feel as young as I look,” Baba joked, patting Chris on the back. “So, you’ll take them around, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright © 2016 evansscruff. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of evansscruff. 
> 
> A /N:  
> I'm working on a Something New chapter as we speak so I'm hoping to have it ready soon!  
> For reference, the word ‘Baba’ is an affectionate term for ‘father’ or ‘older/wise man, and ‘Didi’ refers to ‘older sister.’   
> An aarthi is what you do to traditionally welcome someone to your home for the first time. Parathas are like these spicy potato pancakes which is a staple breakfast food in India. The Mahabharata and the Bhagavad Gita are ancient Hindu epics/scriptures. Ghats are the areas in holy riverside cities like Rishikesh where stairs exist to reach the Ganges, and mandirs are temples.
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts/feedback about the story; I know it’s been a really long time since I’ve updated forgive me!

**Author's Note:**

> Copyright © 2016 evansscruff. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of evansscruff. 
> 
> A/N: For reference, the word ‘Baba’ is an affectionate term for ‘father’ or ‘older/wise man,’ so to speak. The term ‘moksha’ means salvation, while ‘didi’ and ‘beta’ are honorifics for ‘older sister’ and ‘child’, respectively. 
> 
> Please let me and @ponderingsofapuzzledmind know your thoughts/feedback about the story; this is the first time we’ve tried this kind of thing! I'd love to get any feedback or comments about what you guys liked/didn't like- those keep the both of us going! Thanks very much for reading


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